


2 Broke Vampires

by purplepetridish



Category: 2 Broke Girls
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Elves, F/F, Rape/Non-con Elements, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-11 23:05:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5645116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplepetridish/pseuds/purplepetridish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>2 Broke Girls x Fantasy x Omegaverse</p>
<p>Caroline Channing is a High Elf from Silvertree whose diplomat father is imprisoned for accepting money under the table. The imprisonment causes shame and dishonor to fall on her family, and after her father's five estates are burned down she's outcasted with only her horse and the clothes on her back. As she wanders through the forest in search of food she meets a nomadic vampire named Max.</p>
            </blockquote>





	2 Broke Vampires

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd, I also haven't finished the full 2 Broke Girls series so I may re-write parts as I learn more about the characters.
> 
> I think this show was made to be a fantasy series, and I love omegaverse, that's how this story was born.
> 
> There may be elements of rape/non-con, hence the warning. Warning may come down if things go in a different direction.

The horse had been running for hours and was growing tired. He staggered, almost falling against a tree, nostrils flaring and sides heaving, his head tilting forward like a low hanging willow branch. Finally, he fell almost forward and to the side, curling his legs under himself and sat down.

“Oh so we’re just going to stop here?” The rider demanded, getting off her horse, and noticing the lack of response from the horse and the heavy breathing she patted his side. “Ok, tired, I get it,” she sighed, more sympathetically this time. Worriedly she checked the stud’s eyes. He didn’t seem delirious. “Hmm you’re not used to running this much, are you?” she mused. “Back at home, we could do whatever we wanted but we never had this much room to do it in. You had the fences and I had…the gates of our territory.” She grabbed her aching stomach, which protested louder after standing up. “I need to find us something to eat,” she moaned in anxiety.

There hadn’t been any time to grab food for either of them. She’d worried more for the horse, Chestnut’s, stomach more than her own. Elves ate most plant life after all. But she hadn’t accounted for what a picky eater she was. The elf was used to the trees of her home – elegant and delicate trunks of all shades with finely textured barks. These forest trees were large, malformed and bulbous in places that made her feel nauseous looking at them. The branches grew out at all angles, and leaves seemingly sprouted at random, so different from the uniform branches and leaf growth at home. These…whatever they were, not trees… things disgusted her, but she’d forced herself to walk up to one only an hour ago, closing her eyes, telling herself to drink not think, but as soon as her lips touched the rough bark she’d gagged and jolted back, coming back without a single drop of sap.

Now starving for the sweet taste of sap or the musty bitterness of a leaf while her stomach slowly ate itself. She might die before her body’s gag reflex allowed her to eat. At the least she could find Chestnut food. He was doing most of the work anyways. Sustaining herself as a near corpse on his back was an option.

“Ok you stay here,” she told him. Yeah, like he was going anywhere. “I’ll find us something, don’t worry.”

Over there – in the direction of a gigantic deformed tree, if you could call it that, with the dark leaves and the above ground roots was where the plants felt healthiest. She knelt and held her bare hands to the ground. As she thought she had heard there was the faint flamboyant call of fruit in that direction.

Elves can sense most plant life around them on various levels – each individual plant has its own unique tag, and elves can identify them similar to how humans identify each other with a face; they can sense a plant’s temperament - healthy and strong, bitter, cunning, etc. Elves can understand shape of a tree and the depth of its roots by standing on the ground near it. Of course, this last type of information was offered freely by the plants at home, but the flora of the forest were strangers and guarded it. Fruit was freely advertised though – thank High Light – because it was a way for the plant’s to disperse their seed and they wanted to reproduce.

She imagined an apple tree, then apricots, that turned into an apricot pie, which became the steaming smell of apricot pie in her mother’s kitchen. Over the past few days she’d become very imaginative when food was involved.  
The trees around her were not welcoming as she walked, but she had to pry into their signature to remember how to get back.

I really hope there’s some water source around here too, she thought. This is my only outfit, and it’s getting soiled in the literal meaning of the word with me falling in the dirt more than a few times. And my hair. She smoothed down her strands of long blonde hair which did not feel their normal silky smooth. I’m surprised no birds have confused it for a nest!

The ground was full of decaying leaves – not the soft mosses of home. It was like a leaf massacre – the shedding of something living which was now dried and gross – the air was cloying with moisture and humidity so when she finally found the clearing she was happy to have some breathing room, away from all the asshole trees. And there, a bush of dark berries! At first she thought she was hallucinating. Thank you, thank you, Great Elk! With tears streaming out the corner of her eyes she ran toward it, knelt on the ground, scooped half into her mouth and half into the bowl she was making of her shirt.

Her shirt full and with as much as she could carry in her mouth, she got up and turned on her heel, but had only made it a few steps before the ground lifted up below her, and she was hanging in the air before she could process what had happened.

Scratchy rough texture rubbed against her cheek. Below, the distance of the ground had her eyes rolling in her head and holding back bile. The rough texture surrounding her was thick rope, crossed together. What was this, like a fishing net? Her face was crammed against the netting, and she scrambled for a better position but it was impossible, her body’s center of gravity – her middle-- wanted to be the furthest thing down yet she wanted to sit up. No matter how much she tried, it wasn’t happening and she began to panic.

“Oh High Light. Help! HELP!” she said breathlessly. She screamed again, louder, until her throat was raw, and her heart beat wildly in her chest. Birds called to warn each other, but spared no sympathy for her. They already thought she was a goner.

Crap! I knew those berries had been too good to be true. The world doesn’t want to give you anything good Caroline, remember that, remember that!

Night fell. Hours earlier, after the panic had subsided, she’d fixed herself cross legged, which set the center of gravity to her legs. This allowed her to sit up – somewhat. The netting wasn’t too think, but it was strong. Caroline tried gnawing at it with her teeth, with her fingernails. She tried to swing the net back and forth, wanting to break it off the branch, but then realized the fall might kill her. Maybe a better death than whatever death was ahead of her though. She even tried to call for Chestnut, her grandfather, her father, anyone. Could Chestnut not hear her? She must have walked too far off or else he was too exhausted to sit up. It was regretful she hadn’t said bye to him more thoroughly, he was her last friend in the world

“What the hell are you?” said a bemused voice from below.

The ground below was covered in shadow. Caroline squinted her eyes for movement. “Uhm, hello? I’m not a what, I’m a who, and my name is Caroline Channing, I’m the daughter of the High Duke of Silvertree. I was headed towards a very important diplomatic meeting, and they’re expecting me there tomorrow morning. I got separated from my band, and they’re out looking for me right now. Help me get out of this… contraption, and I promise my father will reward you generously.” She’d been practicing the speech in her head for the last two hours

“Silvertree? No way! You’re a bat-ear!” the voice called up excitedly.

The elf gasped at the term that was literally banned throughout the kingdom she had grown up in. “Excuse me?” she said. “That is an antiquated and highly offensive term.”

“You find bat-ear offensive?” The voice sounded amused. “Hmmm I guess I’ll have to call you something else then. Like… Sap sucker, leaf licker, grass grinder, money minder.” The voice sing-songed up at her. “That poem I haven’t used for awhile!”

The elf’s mouth fell open and she gulped for air like a fish trapped in a…well…net, then quickly composed herself, as she’d been trained to do. Her father, a diplomat, had said: Don’t show unnecessary weakness to stranger. Only expose those weaknesses that make you appear strong and persevering, worthy. Pick the right time and humanize yourself to them. “Whatever you call me, the offer stands, you will be rewarded handsomely if you help me escape this prison I walked into by accident and deliver me back to her father.” She couldn’t quite stop herself from adding. “And those poem was extremely rude.”

“Do I sound like I care about being PC?”

“No.” The elf said bitterly.

“Anyways, I do like money, and your offer sounds kinda fantastic, so I’ll help you out.”

“Great,” the elf sighed with relief. “Do you know how to get me down from here?”

“Uh, yeah, it is my trap after all.” 

The elf froze. “Wait! You caught me?”

“Wow, apparently I’m better at catching people than you are at catching on to things. Who the hell else would be out here this time of night but the trapper? Anyways, I didn’t mean to catch you. I trap deer and elk and sometimes rabbits.”

“You catch deer? And rabbits. And…Elk? Why?”

“Yes I catch deer and elk,” the voice said, mocking the emphasis on the word. “To eat.” The voice seemed to relish giving that revelation, covering the word with sauce.

The elf knew there were creatures in the out there who ate animals but she’d never thought closely about it before. Now, however, the thought terrified her. This creature didn’t want to eat her… did it? What if it didn’t care about money at all? “So we’ve established that I’m an elf. What…are you?” she said slowly, dreading the answer.

“Oh, I’m a vampire,” the voice said matter-of-factly.

The elf put an involuntary hand up to her mouth. “A…blood-sucker?” she said quietly. But vampires had excellent hearing.

“Now that’s just offensive. So, I’ll get you down from here we go, collect my reward. Just don’t struggle or it’ll be more painful as I bring you down.”

“Oh High Light thank you! I promise, we have five estates, and I’m my father’s only child!” the elf called down, and held still as the net was slowly lowered to the ground.

For the first time, the elf saw the vampire at the bottom. Female, as the elf had suspected from the pitch of the voice. However, with a much more pleasant and innocent face that she had been expecting. Her body relaxed, until she saw the glint of moonlight of a large hunting knife the vampire was holding.

“Relax, it’s just to cut you out. Move to the side and I’ll cut a hole you can climb out of.”

The elf did as she asked, and true to her word the vampire cut a hole out. The elf wanted to see the vampire’s teeth, and tried to pay careful attention as she talked.

“I think you can pull yourself through that,” the vampire said.

The elf still didn’t get a glimpse of her teeth, but getting out of the net was most important at the moment.

Except she had difficultly fitting through the hole. Her head fit through but the rest of her body was still tangled. Suddenly her wrists were grabbed and she was pushed to the ground.

She struggled against what she suddenly realized was a now rabid vampire. She pushed against the vampire’s chest – and apparently ample breasts – and was grabbed by the wrists. 

“What are you doing?!” the elf cried. “I thought were you letting me go?!”

“Yeah, uhm, I lied. I just needed you to struggle less. I was gonna play the whole, come and have a drink with me, and then you’d drink my cocktail which would paralyze you and make your blood taste sweeter, but you don’t seem like the trusting type. Plus, I’ve never had bat-ear blood before, but I’ve heard it’s like a delicacy, and I kinda want to taste the raw form.”

“Unh- you!” The elf fought – but elves are no match for a vampire’s strength and she was quickly overpowered. She began to cry, unable to believe her life would end so soon – there was so much she hadn’t done. “Please, please, don’t kill me,” she said. Now was a good time to make herself seem human to the vampire right? “You’ll lose out on the reward! You like money, right! You said you did.”

The vampire scoffed. “Pfft. I’ve seen and smelled you and your grungy horse travel around here in circles for days. There is no band and there is no money. You’re a nomad.”

“No! I promise we have money! I was just lost! Help me get back to my kingdom and they’ll reward you. I promise!”

“Uhhh…no. Too much work for too unlikely of a promise. You think I’m stupid enough to believe I wouldn’t be killed by arrow the moment I stepped up to the perimeter?”

The elf struggled. “Help. HELP!” She cried.

“You have no idea how much better this is making the experience for me,” the vampire said at the elf’s struggles.

The elf close her eyes and tensed but there was no pinch at her neck and no slow weakness descending on her (the type she would imagine would come of the blood slowly being drained from her body). In fact the weight on top of her subsided a bit.  
She opened her eyes, in apprehensive slits, afraid of what she would see. And there was the vampire, smirking down at her with those long vampiric tusks for teeth. They had grown nearly to the point of her chin and saliva glinted off the lower half of her face, a drop forming at the bottom. “Well you’re a treat aren’t you? I wanted to trap fresh meat and I got fresh meat,” the vampire smirked. “You just saved yourself a trip to my stomach. You know, you could have just said ‘I’m an omega’ -- that’s pretty much a free pass to life with an alpha, maybe not a good life, but a life.”

It took a moment for ‘flight or fight’ thoughts to clear the elf’s head so she could process the statements and the fact that the blood wasn’t being drained from her body. “Come again? Who’s an omega now?”

“Woa bat-ears, you’re getting ahead of yourself there! I haven’t even come the first time.” the vampire chuckled. “I’m surprised I didn’t smell you before, but you’ve got this peppermint bleh covering everything else. Did you rub yourself on a mint plant before I caught you? Of course you did, you’re an elf. You guys love the flora.”

The elf went limp as she began to catch her breath. “Oh I see. You…You’re an alpha.” She pointed to the vampire. “And you think I’m an omega.”

“Because you are. Pretty, nice smelling. Not smart,” the vampire commented.

An omega. The low desirables of light-elf society; people wanted them for the pleasure heat afforded but not much else. Alphas made better partners in every way – go getters, usually rich, had passions and prospects, and tigers in the bedroom. Betas were usually intelligent and polite. Omegas were spoiled, not bright, boring, and uncreative. The elf had always fantasized about being an alpha but was content with her beta status. And now the vampire wanted to take that away from her, as if enough already hadn’t been. But if it helped keep her alive….

“Well, I simply didn’t think it mattered if I was an omega,” she said, pursing her lips and throwing her hair back as best she could on the ground, trying to play the part.

“Doesn’t matter? Forget your dad’s money, you’re worth a fortune on the slave market!”

The elf’s eyes widened. “The slave market! No you don’t understand you’re wrong, I’m not an omega.”

“256 years of using my nose and it’s never lied.” The vampire pointed to the sensory organ in question. Then she grabbed the elf’s wrists, producing out of her bag a wad of rope and tying the elf’s wrists with it, before slicing her out of the netting and working on her feet.

“Guess you can’t walk like that so I’ll have to carry you,” the vampire, with un-elflike strength, hefted her catch onto her back with a grunt and walked off into the night.


End file.
